


Reliance

by Destinyawakened



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 15:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of TDK. Bruce needs to know he can trust Jim Gordon as police commissioner and an alley to Batman. He makes plans that may not go the way he planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steps 1-3

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta'd, did my best to try and fix everything where I could. If it's horribly offensive and you can't stand to look at it, send me a message, I'll fix it. Thanks.
> 
> This is set Post TDK, pre-TDKR (obviously)

“I'm not quite sure I understand your motives, Master Wayne,” Alfred Pennyworth calmly said from beside Bruce Wayne. Alfred was Bruce's long time butler and friend, a person Bruce could call family without the attachment and pressing eyes a real family offered; even though Alfred tried often.

 

“I think they're rather clear. You don't have to be apart of this if you don't want to be,” Bruce said simply, hitting a button on the keyboard of his computer and the screen went blank. Bruce leaned back into the chair, folding his arms over his chest and looking up at Alfred. The older man sighed, shoulder's slumped, and shook his head. Bruce knew that Alfred never denied him when he needed the help – the butler was far more dedicated to Bruce than the billionaire would ever give him credit for.

 

“I'll help you in anyway you need, sir,” Alfred offered Bruce the mug he was holding his hands, a cup of fresh coffee from the café down the street; Alfred always poured the dark liquid into a new mug so Bruce never suspected Alfred didn't make it himself.

 

Bruce took the mug gratefully, giving Alfred one of those grins that showed all his sincerity and trust; a smile that only Alfred could warrant from him these days. “I know it seems extreme, Alfred. But after the fiasco with the Joker, and corrupt cops hiding in the walls of MCU – I can't take the chance. This city deserves only better.”

 

Alfred nodded, hands clasped in front of him. “I only pray that this doesn't backfire. Someone's liable to get hurt.”

 

“Don't worry about me, Alfred. I know what I'm doing,” Bruce reassured, a strong tone taking form from deep in this throat.

 

Alfred turned to leave – to take care of some the business at the Penthouse – and turned his head back to look Bruce in the eye. “It wasn't you I was worried about, Sir.”

 

\-----

 

Commissioner James Gordon. The name was etched in flat, black ink on the door of his office at City Hall. Gordon traced the letters with his finger tips, feeling the indents and curves. He'd seen the name on his office door every day for the last month – since his promotion. He thought for sure by now that he would have gotten used to it. For Gordon it was just another reminder of why his wife took the their two children and left without even so much as goodbye. It hurt; it was hard to move on some days knowing that he couldn't go home and see the grin on Jimmy's face or the blond curls of Babs bouncing towards him when he walked through the door.

 

Just more memories that he needed to bury as deep as he could get them. He touched the doorknob with a twist of his wrist and pushed it open. Linda had warned him just minutes before that a a courier had been sent up to his office and had been told to wait. Gordon didn't need to know what the man was delivering, it was pretty obvious by the size of the envelope in the kid's hand.

 

“Mister James Gordon?” the kid asked, and Gordon gave him a sullen nod. The kid handed him an envelope. “I need you to sign on that front of that envelope and take the contents out.”

 

Gordon did as he was asked and when the kid was gone, he sat down at his desk and flipped through the booklet of papers on his divorce. All he had to do was sign the papers, agreeing that he would pay so much for child support each month and they would stay out of his life. Not exactly how he wanted things to be, but considering there was no talking to Barbara on the matter – or changing her mind – he did what any man would do when he knew his marriage was over. He signed the papers, placed them into a new envelope, addressed it to Barbara's lawyer and placed it on Linda's desk to be mailed.

 

He trudged back to his office to find his door wide open, when he could have sworn he left it only slightly cracked. Gordon peeked his head around the side to see none other than Bruce Wayne standing by the tank of water that sat on a bookshelf, watching the fish. Wayne turned his head to look at Gordon, a smile brighter than the sun itself spreading across his lips. Wayne stepped forward and offered his hand to the commissioner in greeting.

 

“Commissioner Gordon, I'm glad I caught you,” Wayne said suavely, and there was something in his tone that set Gordon at ease as he took the younger man's hand.

 

“Mister Wayne, what can I do for you?” Gordon found himself asking curiously.

 

\-----

 

  
  
**Step One: Prove Yourself.**   


 

It took a lot more effort than Bruce anticipated to get the commissioner to go out to dinner with him. At first Bruce had just casually offered dinner to the obviously lonely older man. Bruce knew full well that Gordon's wife left him just weeks prior and they had just finalized their divorce. Gordon refused, he had said he had a lot of work to catch-up on. That was when Bruce brought out the big guns and said it _was_ work, that Bruce was considering giving a very large donation to the GCPD and needed to talk it over with the Commissioner. This caught Gordon's attention. Bruce wasn't sure if the man actually was lonely and needed the excuse to get away from the office, or if he was truly interested in what Bruce had to say about the donation.

 

Which ever it was, it didn't matter now. What mattered was Jim Gordon was sitting across from Bruce Wayne at one of the more prestigious restaurants in Gotham – Bruce's choice. Gordon was looking over the menu and Bruce was tapping the side of his wine glass with his fingernails, staring at the ripples in the red liquid. When he looked up to see if Gordon had decided on something, the older man was staring at him in a rather annoyed fashion. Bruce gave one of his infamous playboy grins, and placed his hand flat on the table.

 

“They always have wonderful pasta dishes here,” Bruce said calmly when Gordon glanced back down at his menu, looking over the top of his glasses to see the words a little better.

 

“I was leaning more towards the steak,” Gordon replied to Bruce's comment, obviously not wanting to seem like he had no idea what he was ordering here. Unfortunately for Gordon the steaks here were not made of cow, but ostrich. Bruce bit down into his lower lip to keep himself from spurting out in laughter at the thought of Gordon's face when he bit into a steak that was not what he was expecting.

 

Gordon placed the menu down on the table, folding it. He looked at Bruce curiously, and the playboy couldn't help but keep his vibrant grin. “Something wrong with the steak?”

 

“Not at all. It's a _very_ good choice.” It wasn't a lie, the ostrich was very good and if Bruce was lucky, Gordon would actually like it. Gordon shrugged and didn't push it any further than that. They ordered their meals minutes later, and Gordon had a glass of scotch brought out, after Bruce insisted. Once the Commissioner had a few sips, Bruce set down his glass – still quite full – on the table, leaning himself onto his forearms so that he wouldn't have to speak louder than was necessary for Gordon to hear.

 

“The Wayne Foundation and it's board members have been speaking recently about the needs of the city. We could give our money to the poor, create more shelters, soup kitchens... but the fact is we have tons of those already operating in the city. With these crime sprees on the rise, we all agreed that the Gotham City Police Department could use the money. Major Crimes needs repair, better holding cells, new equipment for all your officers, cars with new technology. You name it, we'll be there to provide it.” Bruce explained, and it seemed he caught Gordon off guard, as if the older man expected Bruce to be a bit more subtle in bringing the up subject.

 

Gordon raised an eyebrow at the younger man. “You aren't just going to write us a check and tell us to spend it wisely?”

 

Bruce rolled his eyes exasperatedly, shaking his head. “A check seems so informal and less personal. I'm leading up the project myself. If you agree, we'll be working together to create a better more equipped police force for Gotham.”

 

“That is very generous Mister Wayne, but a man so involved in his company, such as yourself, must not have the time for such an extreme projects. A check would be sufficient.” Gordon still had that baffled look on his face, somewhat thrown off by Bruce's proposition. Maybe there was something in the PD the commissioner didn't want Bruce to know about...

 

Well of course there was: Batman. It just proved a little more than Gordon had no idea who Batman really was. If Bruce had his way, it would stay that way.

 

“Nonsense!” Bruce said as he gestured his hand to brush off the remark. “There is nothing more deserving of my time than getting Gotham back to normal.”

 

Gordon attempted to hold back a laugh but that resulted in him coughing. He took a sip of water and, cleared his throat. “Normal for Gotham isn't all that great Mister Wayne.”

 

Bruce nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek before giving a more thought out answer. “Well, then to bring Gotham back to its prime – the way it was before Thomas and Martha Wayne were killed.” Bruce had long since gotten past saying his parents' names without breaking; he was stronger now. Gordon looked taken back, sympathetic even, and Bruce found he didn't quite like that look on Gordon.

 

“Your father had quite a vision,” Gordon said softly, looking the other way for a moment, and then his eyes met Bruce's again and the answer to Bruce's proposition was more than evident in the way the commissioner's smile appeared faintly behind his mustache. “Alright, Mister Wayne. You have a deal.”

 

Bruce reached for his glass just as Gordon brought his tumbler up for toast. This time Bruce did sip his wine as he smirked behind the glass.

  
  
**Step One: complete**   
  
. 

 

\-----

 

“Master Wayne, are you quite sure this is way to go about doing this?” Alfred asked a few weeks later, handing Bruce a mug of coffee. Bruce looked up at the older gentleman, ticking his head to the side in question.

 

“I don't see any other possible ways to execute this effectively, Alfred. If you have any better ideas...” Bruce trailed off, motioning his hand at the computer screen, watching as Alfred dutifully shook his head and closed his mouth. It had be learned long ago not to argue with Bruce, there was often no reason for it. Alfred was there to offer his advice when it was needed, and nothing else.

 

“No, Master Wayne.” The older of the two men said with a heavy breath. “Shall I assume you'll want the limo brought around Wayne Enterprises at seven this evening, sir?”

 

Bruce let his eyes wander back to the computer screen. “Yes.”

 

“Very well.”

 

\-----

 

Jim Gordon took once a week to sit down at Major Crimes and go over case files with the detectives. Gerard Stephens was now the lead for the MCU, and often let Gordon use his office for his private meetings when he needed to have them. Today, however, was merely a walk-through and playing catch-up.

 

“You're really working with Bruce Wayne on redeveloping    
_all_   
the branches of the GCPD?” Stephens asked Gordon as they walked into the building, heading down the hall towards the bullpen.

 

Gordon nodded. “Surprised me too. The kid has a better head on his shoulders than a lot of us realize.” He glanced sideways at Stephens over his glasses. “Between you and me, I think he's just had one too many wild nights. You know how those rich kids spend their money; getting high, drinking 'til they pass out...”

 

“... Taking home another beautiful woman every night,” came a voice from behind them. Gordon turned around slowly to see Wayne standing there, a sincere and not-at-all annoyed smile on his face. You'd think he liked to hear ugly comments made about him. Maybe he did.

 

“Mister Wayne,” Gordon greeted, and where he would usually have an irritated tone for the playboy, he found that after the dinner the other night, he couldn't quite muster that feeling anymore. “What brings you to Major Crimes? I didn't think our meeting was until Friday morning?”

 

“It's not. I'm actually here to see Detective Pearson,” Wayne said casually, stepping between Gordon and Stephens. “You wouldn't happen to know where I could find her, would you?”

 

Stephens was wide-eyed and already pointing to corner of the bullpen where Pearson's desk was located. Wayne patted both men on the shoulder's as he pushed past them in the direction he was pointed. Elizabeth Pearson was a new recruit, hired just before the events in October. Gordon watched as the young blond stood from her desk as Bruce approached, leaning into hug with the billionaire. Gordon was vaguely suspicious as to where the two had met. Gordon decided he would wait to find out until Wayne left. Which wasn't until Stephens kicked him out three hours later, and only then it was because Detective Pearson hadn't been able to get any work done with Wayne distracting her.

 

Gordon wandered over to her desk, maybe a little too casually, and placed her case files on her desk. “Bruce Wayne, hm?” His tone was more fatherly than he intended, but with a reputation like Wayne's, he couldn't help but worry.

 

“Yeah...” She started to say, that dreamy look in her eye that many women got when they thought about Bruce Wayne. Gordon had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “We met this morning at a café down the street. It was so random, too. I didn't think a man like Bruce Wayne would even give _me_ a second glance,” she paused for a moment and looked at Gordon thoughtfully. “He's taking me dinner tonight.”

 

Gordon wanted to tell her not to give her hopes up too high, this was Gotham's Prince after all, a man who made a spectacle of himself almost weekly by trying to out do himself each time. Did Pearson have any idea what Bruce's intentions were? She tipped her head at Gordon and shook her head.

 

“I don't want a lecture, Commissioner. I'm not expecting a lasting relationship from a man like Wayne.” Pearson leaned in and bumped her shoulder into Gordon's playfully. “But a girl can have fun can't she?”

 

\-----

  
  
**Step Two: Become an Acquaintance**   


 

Bruce took Detective Elizabeth Pearson to dinner two nights in a row, breakfast the one morning she stayed the night at the penthouse, and lunch the next day. She was honestly not his type, but Bruce was very good at pretending and very good at acting like he cared about what she had to say. She seemed to enjoy herself and he could sense that she knew it was only a fling – which would make it that much easier when he finally broke it to her that he was done.

 

Bruce took the days they had dates for breakfast and lunch to wander around the offices of Major Crimes, making casual talk with the other detectives, fishing for answers and information about Gordon where he could. And it just so happened that word would get back to Jim Gordon that Bruce was about asking questions and hovering over shoulder's, and Gordon would appear at MCU faster than lightening. Bruce was able to small talk Gordon, avoiding the subject of their meeting for Friday altogether.

 

It was all in his plan, and so far it seemed to be working.

 

On the fourth day, Thursday morning, Bruce was out of bed by seven, when most mornings he didn't bother to be out of bed before eleven AM at least. He had offered to walk Elizabeth from her apartment to work just a few blocks away from where she lived. He didn't really mind, his week was pretty open until tomorrow, Friday, when he would finally get a chance to meet with Gordon on how Wayne Tech and the GCPD would be working together and continue to poke his way into Gordon's life a little more. If the day went as planned.

 

He held the door open for Elizabeth, allowing her to walk through and just as he was going to let the door shut behind him he heard someone call out to hold it. Bruce shot his hand back, palm to the door. There was Jim Gordon, dressed as he always was in a semi-business suit, but one of those awful plaid shirt and a tie that could pass as almost older than Bruce. Gordon mumbled a thanks and took the door while Bruce let his hand rest on the small of Elizabeth's back, leading her down the hall way. He turned his head back to the commissioner, who was following very slowly behind them, and flashed him a wide grin, teeth bearing painfully against his lips.

 

“I'll pick you up about six,” Bruce said to the detective as they arrived at her desk. She tipped her head to the side and shook her head.

 

“Oh, Bruce...” she sighed and the billionaire already knew the look in her eyes, it was one he warranted from many women; it was usually the other way around. “I know I'm just the next girl on your list until another one comes along. The last couple days have been fun, but I'd rather be seeing someone wants to start something serious.”

 

Well this really made everything easier, didn't it? Bruce shrugged his shoulder's, and stuck his bottom lip out just slightly, eyes pleading at her. “Are you sure I can't convince you to do just one more dinner and    
_dessert_   
?” He asked emphasizing dessert the most, his voice going an octave lower as he leaned in towards her ear. 

 

She pushed back on his chest playfully. “Mister Wayne, we both know that might be a bad idea,” she teased, and then she expression softened. “If you ever decide to settle down and stop this life you seem to enjoy, you go ahead and call me.” She picked up a files off her desk and walked past him. He would never be calling her, in fact he found her far more droll and annoying than most women he had ever dated. He shook his head in disbelief, aware that there was a pair of eyes watching him.

 

“I guess that never happens often does it?” Gordon asked from behind him, hands in the pocket of his slacks, right shoulder leaned against the wall.

 

“No. Not often.” Bruce replied calmly, turning around to meet the gaze of the Commissioner straight on. “Would've happened sooner or later.”

 

“You weren't expecting the sooner though, were you?” Gordon questioned; he must have caught the light stall in Bruce's voice as he said it. “Unfortunately, dating a detective is probably one of the dumbest ideas you've ever head.”

 

“Oh, I don't know about the dumbest,” Bruce quipped back playfully to the commissioner. “But I see your point. Models are one thing; everything goes over their head.”

 

“And an officer of the law will always know when you aren't being entirely honest,” Gordon finished for him, he had a little bit of smile forming on his lips, and Bruce could see that their quaint banter was actually allowing the commissioner to see Bruce for something other than the playboy.

 

“It's too bad though, I had these great dinner reservations...” Bruce hinted in an almost not so subtle tone. Gordon shook his head at the younger man.

 

“Afraid you're still going to be on your own. I have to get this proposal together for mayor in the morning before our meeting at Wayne Tech. I'll take a rain-check though.” Gordon said politely, obviously before he had thought about what he was saying, because he looked about ready to retract the statement all together. Bruce didn't allow him the moment.

 

“Deal. Maybe tomorrow evening, to celebrate our joined efforts.” Bruce smiled promisingly and Gordon nodded. “I can send a car around City Hall around seven tomorrow evening to pick you up.”

 

Gordon went from nodding to shaking his head. “That's not necessary, Mister Wayne –”

 

“Bruce.”

 

“– Bruce. I can drive myself,” Gordon assured him.

 

Bruce narrowed his eyes, this was not going to work into his plan. But he could get this to work. Yes. “Well, let me at least give you my number in case you're running late. Nothing worse than someone waiting around for you without knowing what's going on.” It was a good excuse, wasn't it?

 

Gordon seemed to contemplate it and then he gestured for Bruce to take out his phone. “Works both ways, you know.”

 

  
  
**Step Two**   
  
:    
  
**Complete**   


 

 **\-------**

 

“Are you quite sure, sir, that Commissioner Gordon is even going to attend this function?” Alfred asked as he continued to address off-white envelopes with a pearl black pen, in the neatest cursive handwriting Bruce had ever seen.

 

Bruce flicked his eyes from the writing on the envelope, to his laptop screen. He was putting the last touches on the paperwork for beginnings of the GCPD and Wayne Tech project. “I have a feeling he'll be coming to this one.”

 

“He's turned down all your other invites, Master Wayne. I don't see how this one will be any different,” Alfred commented drolly as he finished the return address on the envelope and slid it across the glass finish of the table to just at Bruce's reach. The billionaire looked down at it but didn't pick it up, he didn't want the ink to smear. To make an impression, to have the commissioner think he was just as special – if not more so – than everyone else Bruce invited to these stupid events.

 

“I think with enough convincing Jim Gordon will be more willing to attend this...” Bruce glared over at Alfred who was not amused that Bruce couldn't even remember what sort of even the was hosting. “Uh... costume party. He'll come.”

 

\------

 **Step Three: Be his Friend**

 

 

“I think the first step is to outfit the entire force with Kevlar vests, and not just the standard bulletproof ones that you have now. These will be lightweight, three hundred and sixty degrees coverage with no chance of bullet slipping through the side.” Wayne said as he handed Gordon the drawing, specs included. The drawings were very detailed and Gordon was impressed with the amount of attention that Wayne was giving the project so far.

 

“Won't they be a little costly?” Gordon asked as he continued to skim the page, noting the the scribbled 'B.Wayne' down on the side of the paper. Gordon would have never pegged Wayne an artist, must less someone with the capability to sit and draw out something so detailed. _When did he have the time?_ Unless a lot of what the press wrote about Wayne was only what Wayne wanted them know. It was silly to think Wayne didn't have at least _some_ free time.

 

“Cost isn't an issue here, Commissioner. It costs more money to train and replace an officer who is killed in the line of duty than it is to make one of these to save the life of an officer.” Wayne explained, still standing at the head of the long conference table, the Wayne Enterprises CEO at the other end, simply watching. Gordon wanted to say something about vests only protecting an officers torso, that helmets wouldn't work and it was still likely for one of them to be shot in the head, but Wayne seemed so confident and Gordon found he didn't have the heart to tell him.

 

But, he didn't have to either. Lucius Fox, the CEO, opened his mouth first. “Mister Wayne is well aware, of course, Commissioner, that vests don't always saves lives. But a high percentage of death in the police department are results of chest wounds. We can hope to at least lower the number a deaths each year by providing these vests.”

 

Gordon didn't want to know where these two got their information; whether they hacked the system for the PD or simply asked the mayors office for it – it didn't matter. They obviously had thought a long time on this. Gordon wouldn't lie, it set his nerves at ease about the situation. Wayne slid another larger piece of paper towards Gordon, this one had a design for new police cars on it, armored though, but the same look as the old ones.

 

“We've figured if we take the cars you have now and add the armor on, it would be far less costly than buying over hundred new cars. Wayne Tech has seen the amount of damage police cars go through in Gotham, and we'd like to see if the armoring helps before investing more money into newer vehicles.” Wayne explained, pointing out a few of the features of the drawing, where the armor would go around the sides of the vehicles, and even a more durable bulletproof glass, lined with a thin coating of spray on Kevlar. There was a lot of technology here that Gordon had no idea existed, but he was happy to have it if it meant the men and women on the force to could do their jobs in a safer environment.

 

“I'll have to run these by the Mayor for approval, but these all look amazing. I can't even begin to thank you Mister Wayne, for all of this.” Gordon said, and Bruce shrugged his shoulder, offering one of those attitude inducing playboy smiles.

 

“We've already sent copies to the Mayor. I'm sure he'll find them more than acceptable.”

 

\-----

 

The meeting continued for another half hour before Lucius called it quits and they set up their next one for a week later. There was a lot of work to be done and the prototypes would be in by that time. Bruce caught Gordon on his way out the door, by touching the man on the shoulder. The commissioner turned around, a weary smile parting at his lips.

 

“I want to thank you again for allowing Wayne Tech the opportunity to give back to the city,” Bruce said with a gracious tone in his voice. He tried his best to sound less fake, because everything he said when in his facade always sounded so fake to him. Gordon didn't seem to notice; why would he? He didn't know playboy Bruce from serious Bruce.

 

Gordon sighed, hands on his hips, and giving his head one of those authoritative little shakes that Bruce noticed he did quite a bit when he wasn't too sure how to react to something. “Oh, no, Mister Wayne. It's me and the rest of the police department that owes you the thanks. This should really cut back on criminal induced deaths.” But what Gordon was really thinking – Bruce knew it because it was obviously written in sadness all over his face – was that it wouldn't stop the corrupt cops from killing off the good ones for a little money from the mob. Bruce pretended that he couldn't tell what Gordon was thinking and took that moment to hand him the envelope he had been holding.

 

“What's this?” Gordon asked suspiciously, reading the name addressed on it as his own. Bruce watched him touch the beautifully written words on it, his eyes flickering over the return address as Bruce's penthouse.

 

“It's a little late notice, I know. I wasn't going to send you an invite seeing as you always turn them down. But, I figured since we're collaborating a on a few projects now and we've had dinner once – twice if you count this evening coming – that you might actually attend this one.” Bruce said, watching as Gordon finally opened the envelope carefully with his callused fingers, trying not to tear the beautiful paper invite inside.

 

Gordon took the black piece of paper out and held it up to read. “A costume party? Halloween was well over a month ago, Mister Wayne” Gordon asked in sarcastic tone, but Bruce could tell he was being serious.

 

“It was,” Bruce stated happily, hands in his pockets now to seem more casual, hoping his change in body language would set the older man at ease again. “But if memory serves me right, Halloween was preoccupied with the hunting of a certain masked vigilante.”

 

There was spark that lit in Gordon's eyes, one that Bruce new well because he had seen it many times before when he talked to Gordon as Batman. Gordon hated to hear people put Batman down, because Gordon – and his now long gone family – were the only ones that actually knew that Batman was innocent.    
_  
Good   
_   
, Bruce thought,    
_  
his faith still lies where it should.   
_

 

“I see. Well, I'm not sure I can make tomorrow evening, finding a costume at such late notice...” Gordon trailed off, obviously hoping Bruce would just excuse the commissioner from the party and tell him it was fine. This was Bruce Wayne, no one ever said no to his face with out consequence. _Ever_.

 

“Nonsense! I'll have a costume delivered to your apartment tomorrow!” Bruce said with a wild gesture of his hands. He placed a hand on the commissioner's back and began to lead him out the door. “Remember, dinner tonight!”

 

\-----

 

Bruce hated these parties about as much as Jim Gordon probably did; that is if the commissioner had ever bothered to come to one, Bruce imagined Gordon would hate them. At least this one was a quaint costume party, filling the halls and living room of his penthouse with all the elitists of Gotham, dressed to the nines in the best costumes money could afford. Bruce, having not given the task a lot of thought, was wearing a white pinstriped Zoot suit, black fedora, and the classic pocket watch and chain dangling from his suit jacket. He stood against the wall, watching the crowd, sipping his champagne flute of ginger ale, and scanning the room for Jim Gordon.

 

It was an hour in to the party and there was no sign of the commissioner. Gordon had promised the night before at dinner that he would be there, despite the fact that he was obviously uncomfortable towards the idea. Bruce did go out of his way to find Gordon a costume, so he knew that the older man had to show up at some point; Gordon wasn't one to let money go to waste.

 

Bruce began to mingle with a few of the ladies at the party, one in particular that dragged him to the corner of the room, where she stood against the wall while he leaned over her with his palm next to her neck, resting on the cool marble. She was another one of those that if he didn't have other plans for the night, he would take her up to the master bedroom and fill his quota for the tabloids. That's all he ever saw these women good for; none of them ever struck his fancy for longer than a week tops.

 

“So, when do I get to see the rest of your penthouse, Bruce?” the woman asked, touching the lapel on his jacket with her red painted nails. She was dressed as a 1940s lounge singer, red slimming dress and all. Bruce was tempted, but... that was when he caught the sound of Alfred's voice over the shrill voices echoing through the room.

 

“Good evening, Commissioner,” Alfred said. Bruce turned his head over his shoulder to see Jim Gordon hand over his coat to the butler with a nod, searching the room nervously. Gordon was dressed in the costume Bruce picked out: a classic black tuxedo with bow tie. Bruce went the James Bond route, to try and ease the Commissioner into the party with out much embarassment.

 

Bruce thought he would might make the man squirm just a little before letting his plan take place. He turned his head back to the woman, bending to kiss her just as the Gordon's gaze passed over them. The woman had grasped firmly onto Bruce's neck, pulling him deeper to the kiss, making him quite aware of just how drunk she already was, tasting the alcohol on her breath. He'd be able to get rid of her easier than he thought.

 

A waiter passed them and he grabbed her another glass of champagne. He pulled away, taking her hand and leading her up the stairs to his bedroom, having to practically drag her when she began stumbled on the stairs. They reached the bedroom and she took the glass from Bruce and downed it. He pushed her onto the bed, crawling on top of her, and it was then he realized that he wouldn't need to do anything else. She had already passed out. He rolled his eyes; _thank God_.

 

Carefully, Bruce crawled off the woman, straightened his suit, adjusted his hat, and left the room. He took the stairs two at time back down to the party. He happened to reach the bottom step just in time to see Jim Gordon step out on to the balcony. Bruce followed after him, grabbing a glass of ginger ale from Alfred's tray.

 

“There's a lady in my bedroom, Alfred. Will you see to it she gets home safely?” murmured Bruce quickly to the older gentlemen as he continued his pursuit of the police commissioner. Bruce stepped out through the glass door, watching the older man slide a cigarette out of coat pocket. Bruce walked past Gordon to the railing.

 

“Thought you were busy,” Gordon said, placing the cigarette loosely between his lips and searching his pockets for what Bruce was sure to be a lighter. Sure enough, that's what it was. Gordon pulled out a silver Zippo and lit the stick.

 

“Should have been,” Bruce said remorsefully. “That's the issue with these parties. Everyone's drunk.” He was aware the Gordon might not understand, but the other man seemed to understand as he nodded as knowingly as he could. Bruce might have been known as a playboy who slept around, but it didn't mean he would take advantage of a drunk woman.

 

Gordon shrugged. “I try not to drink often myself,”. he gestured to Bruce's glass. “How many have you had?”

 

Bruce smiled playfully. “Not nearly enough. I'm usually wasted by now. I can't be sober and keep a conversation going with these people.”

 

“Why do you throw these parties then?” Gordon asked, taking a puff on his cigarette and letting it out slowly. Bruce watched the smoke for a second, thinking on just how he would get this work tonight. The commissioner seemed at ease, all he had to do was push the right button and say the right things...

 

“Board Members. Elite Socialites who donate at every curve. In other words, they're paying for charities I donate to,” Bruce sipped on the 'champagne'. “Their money is what's paying for the new equipment for the police department.”

 

“Is that why you invited me here?” Gordon asked suspiciously, butting the cigarette out on the ledge of the balcony. Bruce shook his head, looking down at his feet and then back to Gordon. For a brief moment he felt oddly attracted to the man standing in front of him, wearing that crisp black tux, hair neatly combed back, with a few wisps out of place from the wind. Bruce had to blink a few times to regain his focus.

 

“Uh, no. I was really hoping to have at least one other normal person here to save me my sanity.” Bruce said boldly, hoping to put himself out there a little for Gordon; hoping the older man would take a hold of that and run with it.

 

“Well, if you don't think they'll miss you... there is coffee shop down a few blocks away. Passed it on my way here. I sure as hell could use a cup.” Gordon said with that small little smile that hid just below the hair on his upper lip. Bruce found himself staring, and looked away to the crowd in the other room. He motioned behind Gordon to the entrance back into the penthouse through the kitchen.

 

“Sounds a lot better than being here.” They walked into the kitchen, sneaked behind the party guests into the elevator and out into the cool night air. They decided to walk, a few block wouldn't kill them, and as they talked they arrived at the coffee shop where they ordered two cups of coffee and sat in the corner.

 

“I don't know why, but I'm really glad I came to your party tonight, Bruce.” Gordon said, not even realizing he openly called Bruce by his first name, and no sound of 'mister' or 'Wayne' in sight. Bruce smiled at him over the rim of his mug.

 

“I'm glad you came, too, Jim. Who would have kept me sane?” Bruce teased, but with a hint of sincerity. Gordon sipped on his own coffee, settling back into the chair at their little corner table, looking content.

 

 **Step Three: Complete.**


	2. Steps 4-5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of TDK. Bruce needs to know he can trust Jim Gordon as police commissioner and an alley to Batman. He makes plans that may not go the way he planned.

 “See, I told you, Alfred,” Bruce said as he looked over the newspaper headlines for the morning. There was something in there about the woman he left in his bed last night, a drunken claim that she and Bruce Wayne were dating and another article someone from the press reported on how skipped out on his own party with the police commissioner and wasn't seen for the rest of the night. The first article would be easily forgotten in a day or two and the second would definitely give way to the alliance recently formed with Wayne Enterprises and the GCPD. This put Gordon in the spotlight for a bit, giving him more attention than he was used to having. This would make things easier later on.

 

“Told me what, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked dully, cleaning up the breakfast dishes of barely eaten eggs and toast and placing them into the sink.

 

“That Jim Gordon would show. I told you.” Bruce said around a sip of his coffee, catching Alfred's eye roll.

 

“I still think this is a terrible idea. There is still time to pretend you were just being an arrogant ass and leave the poor man alone,” the butler scolded, but Bruce had stopped listening. Every day for the past week Alfred had brought this up and Bruce was really quite done.

 

“I don't believe it's really any of your business anymore, Alfred. When I want your opinion on something, I'll let you know.” Bruce said dryly, lowering his tone enough to assert his authority. Alfred huffed and Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Something to say about that?”

 

“No,” the older gentleman replied, glaring at Bruce one last time before headed down the hall to make up the master bedroom. Bruce watched after him, pulling out his cell phone and sending a text to the commissioner. Time to get the ball rolling.

 

\-----

 

** Step Four: Earn his Trust **

 

Gordon stared at the newspaper in front of him a few days later. He and Bruce had gone to lunch and dinner since their midnight ditch from the costume party just days earlier. It was one thing for a reporter to note that the two had left and were then seen having coffee down the street; it was another when the same reporter starting writing articles on how Gordon's wife left him because he was out “gallivanting” around the city, chasing the Batman and ignoring his family. Rumors had come up about his divorce, how it was Gordon's fault and how he obviously didn't care about his family. One reporter for the the Gotham Gazette stuffed her opinion into an article on how Barbara Gordon and kids left Jim Gordon because he was cheating on her with none other than the Batman.

 

This was really the last straw from the commissioner, he had had about enough of all the blatant bullshit churning in the gossip columns. He threw the newspaper down on the desk, seeing the distant figure of Bruce Wayne headed for his open office door. The billionaire had one hand in his pocket, giving a nod to Gordon's secretary, a split second later tapping lightly on the glass of the door as he walked in without a word.

 

Gordon smoothed his hands down over the paper on his desk, almost wanting to hide the article. “Bruce,” he greeted in an fleeting tone, something that sounded forced, even to him. Wayne raised an eyebrow at Gordon, glancing down at the paper.

 

“Is that the Times or the Gazette?” Wayne asked with a smirk that left Gordon feeling a little unsettled.

 

“Both. I'm a little distraught over the fact that an article about us going to coffee has turned into articles about me cheating on my wife.” Gordon was trying to keep his cool, control the anger boiling in his veins. Wayne stepped forward and tapped the paper with his index finger, getting Gordon's attention.

 

“The Gazette is full of gossip. You can't take anything the reporters say in there seriously. Everyone that works for the Gazette weren't good enough for the Times.” Wayne mused as he took the papers off the desk, tossing them into the trash bin by the door. “I know I'm early, but I thought we could grab some coffee before the meeting.” Wayne started to yawn, covering his mouth with the back of hand and stretching with the other arm. Gordon thought it rather dramatic, but he also didn't want to deal with half asleep playboy at their meeting with the mayor.

 

Gordon pushed away from his desk, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. “Sounds like a wonderful idea. I could use something to get my mind off all this anyway.” Meaning the issues at hand with newspapers and the rumor mills. Wayne smirked at him knowingly and Gordon could have sworn he saw something almost mischievous behind those light hazel eyes, but maybe it was just a trick of the lights.

 

\-----

 

Bruce was more than amused and more than amazed that the reporters of the Gazette had gone as far to vaguely accuse Commissioner Gordon of cheating on his wife with Batman. Bruce knew it wasn't true. Gordon wasn't the kind of man who would cheat. Which was why he also called all the newspapers of Gotham and surrounding areas anonymously to meet just outside of City Hall; there were things that had to be resolved and Bruce knew for a fact that no one was going to believe Jim Gordon. No one believed the accused.

 

The commissioner stepped out of the building just shortly behind Bruce, a strangled groan escaping his lips almost inaudibility, if not for the whispered curse that Bruce heard straight after. Bruce put on his best surprised face, turning to face Gordon to show his reluctance to continue forward. Gordon mirrored Bruce's expression, but then set his mouth to a firm, grim line and walked up next to Bruce, giving him a nod that they should just get it over with.

 

Aware that if he let Gordon do his own talking things would likely turn out worse, Bruce stepped ahead of the commissioner to the reporters huddled around them in frenzy. Bruce raised his hand, palm out, to calm the voices. Gordon was tugging lightly on Bruce's jacket, trying to get his attention, to get him to let the older man speak, but Bruce pretended he didn't notice.

 

“I know a lot of you are digging and searching for a story – new dirt on our fair city's newest commissioner,” Bruce started to say and he heard Gordon groan in annoyance beside him, muttering Bruce's name and few choice words. Bruce put his hand on the older man's chest protectively. “The truth is though, there is nothing to dig up. With Jim Gordon what you see is what you get. A good natured man, dedicated to improving the city and protecting its inhabitants.”

 

“Where is his family? What about Batman? Didn't he have an alliance with the vigilante? What about now? How can we trust Jim Gordon when he was known to collaborate with a known murderer?” a female reporter asked, a few reporters echoing her concerns.

 

Gordon began to stir again beside Bruce, but the billionaire held him back with a firm hand on his shoulder. “His family is really none of your concern. Don't people separate everyday? Don't many married couples divorce without anyone noticing? Jim Gordon and his wife are no different. Stop assuming the worst of a man who put the Joker behind bars and has done his best to keep this city out of mayhem.

 

“And Batman? I'm sure we all wanted to believe that mad man was on our side for a long time. We wanted something greater than us to believe in. You can't blame the commissioner for having had those same hopes at one point. I think the commissioner has clearly proved himself with his efforts on trying to capture the vigilante known as Batman. I believe in Jim Gordon just as I believed in Harvey Dent.”

 

Bruce could feel Gordon's muscle ease under his tight hand. Gordon, like everyone else, had believed in Dent and everything he stood for – right down to his fall from grace, which no one but Batman and Gordon knew about. It was still something to the press junket to have Bruce Wayne openly say he supported the city official as much as he once supported Harvey Dent. Maybe Gordon would be their next Dent?

 

Dent was someone like everyone else; someone to they could believe in and count on. Bruce could see the hope rising in most of the eyes watching him.

 

There were few other questions and statements said between them, mostly along the lines of what business Bruce Wayne had with Commissioner Gordon, and of course both men were happy to announce their recent efforts to work together to bring the city back to better standards. By the time they had explained everything and Gordon finally found his voice next to Bruce's – explaining openly his situation with his family – the crowd had died down and the reporters disbanded.

 

A sigh from the commissioner as Bruce walked down the now empty steps of City Hall halted him. Bruce turned, one foot still on the step in front of him, the other below. He tipped his head at Gordon, who was cleaning his glasses with a handkerchief. He looked at Bruce, eyes a different color without the glasses; a shade that reminded Bruce of something between turquoise and the clearest blue ocean. The billionaire hadn't been aware he was gazing so deeply into the older man's eyes until Gordon spoke again, breaking Bruce of his trance.

 

“I, uh... I'm not sure how to thank you, Bruce. Not many people would have stood up for me; risk their own reputations to protect mine. That was very noble of you. I never thought you...” Gordon had lost his words, somewhere probably swimming around his head, but Bruce didn't need to hear anymore to know the plan had worked. Gordon was opening up to Bruce now, he could feel it.

 

“You never thought an arrogant asshole so wrapped up in himself could ever possibly think about someone else longer five minutes?” Bruce quipped playfully, watching the commissioner place his glassed back onto the bridge of his nose. Bruce smiled as Gordon could see him clearly again. “You'd be surprised how much this city means to me. You're a huge part of that now, as commissioner. I'd hate to see Gotham lose a man of your stature. She needs you.”

 

Gordon stepped down to Bruce's side, giving him a sheepish half grin, eying him carefully over the top of his glasses. “Keep talking like that and other people might start to believe you.”

 

“I'm counting on it.”

 

** Step Four: Complete **

 

\------

 

“I dare say that feeding the press those rumors was quite low,” Alfred said with deadpan face that matched his not-too-impressed tone. Bruce could tell that his faithful butler was really starting grow annoyed with Bruce's actions, but what Alfred didn't understand was that in order for Gotham to start shaping up, certain actions were required. Bruce didn't regret anything he had done thus far, and doubted he would regret anything he would to do later.

 

“I could have done worse,” Bruce replied as he looked away from Alfred and back to his laptop, looking over the outline he started some months ago, putting a strike through the events he had successfully accomplished. He heard Alfred heave a less than gratuitous sigh next to him.

 

“I'm beginning to think Dent should have let you turn yourself in. The rate you're going, not even Arkham will be able to help you.” There was pause in the older man's voice, and hitching sound as if he was going to say more. Bruce almost looked up to see what was stopping him, but he kept his eyes down. Alfred gave “hmph” and walked out of the living room.

 

Bruce looked at his screen, rubbing his chin with his left hand as he tried to plot the way he would be able to pull this off in a sufficient amount of time. This would have all been easy if he had started back when he planned to, but certain details of Gordon's life stood in the way; there was even a limit to how far Batman or Bruce Wayne would go to get what he wanted. It was all luck that Barbara Gordon had finally had enough of her husband's increasing absence from their family life. Bruce couldn't feel bad for Gordon, not knowing or really remembering what it was like to have had a loving family – or parents for that matter – that were there for him. He'd have to help Gordon forget his wife.

 

Bruce had a feeling it might not be as hard as he thought it would in the beginning; Gordon was taking to Bruce a lot quicker than he had expected.

 

So why Bruce starting to feel he wanted to reciprocate?

 

\-------

 

** Step five: Be his  _ Best _ Friend **

 

Jim Gordon found himself having lunch with Bruce Wayne three days a week for the next month. He wasn't sure how it happened, or when his brain told him that it was okay to befriend the billionaire and put him on such friendly terms. Maybe Wayne was that piece he needed to get through this stage in his life; an experienced, well bred business partner who had more than proven himself useful in more than just how to spend money. Gordon figured he deserved these moments as small time-outs from the day to just not think about everything else around him – time with a friend.

 

A friend. He supposed that was what Wayne was to him now, a friend. But just how good a friend would Wayne prove to be in the end? When the collaboration with Wayne Tech and the Gotham City Police Department came to a close? Gordon couldn't be sure if Wayne was merely being chummy because it was part of being the owner of Wayne Enterprises, or if the billionaire truly meant every word that poured from his mouth. Gordon liked to think Wayne meant it all, mostly because the young man had never given him any reason _not_ to trust him.

 

Gordon liked to be optimistic about his friends and colleagues; he put a lot of his faith into each person, expecting the best of them. He had a hard time seeing that any one of them could ever betray his trust. Of course, that was a fault of his – Harvey Dent had made sure Gordon had become well aware of that before the DA's untimely death. Gordon may have been wrong about Ramirez and Wuertz, but he had a overwhelmingly good feeling about Wayne. Maybe that was because Wayne showed Gordon sides of himself that the commissioner was positive not a lot of people ever had the pleasure of knowing.

 

Which was probably why he was sitting at a small glass table in the dining room of Wayne's Penthouse, hands folded in his lap. Wayne had yet to show and his butler, Alfred, assured him that from time-to-time Wayne got caught up at the office. Gordon opted to sip his wine and occupy his thoughts with the smells of garlic from the kitchen.

 

He heard the soft ding from the elevator shaft, Alfred murmuring something to Wayne and the playboy retorting back with something that Gordon didn't hear, but he was sure Alfred scoffed at him for it. Gordon turned his head to the hallway that lead to the living room. Wayne stood there in all his grace, looking just as clean pressed as if it were morning. He smiled one of those small lopsided smirked that Gordon had grown to find a heart warming, as it usually meant Wayne was glad to see him.

 

It was annoying, to Gordon, how he picked up on characteristics so quickly with Wayne, that maybe it was all too predictable. No, Wayne just very open with Gordon; that much was obvious. Wayne walked forward and Gordon started to stand to greet him, but the billionaire gestured for him to stay seated.

 

“Sorry I'm so late. Lucius had me going over some last minute details. Apparently it couldn't wait until Monday,” Wayne said with a sweet sincerity in his voice. Gordon tipped his head to the side just a bit, curiously.

 

“Important, then?” he found himself asking, as if he was any of his business. Wayne didn't seem to care if Gordon asked, he didn't show any feeling towards the subject at all as he took his seat across from the commissioner.

 

“Few overseas projects that need to be jump started next week. I'm not over seeing them personally, but as owner of Wayne Enterprises, my approval is needed.” There was a bit of annoyance in the playboy's voice, as if he felt put out by the processes, Gordon wondered what projects he did work on personally, aside from the one they had going together. Wayne sighed and took the goblet of wine from in front of his plate and held the bowl in the palm of his hands, stem between his fingers. He propped his elbow on back of his chair, sitting almost sideways. “Enough about all this boring business talk, Jim. How has your week been?”

 

They hadn't gotten together since Monday, talked a few times on the phone, but the other always had to run off for a meeting or in Gordon's case, run off to stop some criminal. Gotham never slept it seemed, and with Batman not being sighted since October – since he took the blame for everything Dent did – it was starting to get worse. Small time thugs were coming out of the woodwork left and right, and newer mob bosses were beginning to show their faces as they started to build their reputation back. Worst of all, more maniacs like the Joker were showing their faces. But Wayne wouldn't care to know about that, it wasn't his place to care and Gordon wouldn't even think of dropping the horrific details on him.

 

“It's been hectic,” Gordon answered calmly, fidgeting with the napkin in his lap. He felt Wayne's eyes on him then, a glare that felt chilling but familiar somehow. Gordon looked up and what he expected to see was gone, replaced with a more amused glimmer.

 

“I had heard about a bomb scare downtown at Gotham Ritz, yesterday. Anything to be worried about? I didn't catch the outcome of it.” Wayne said, putting a little less effort in sounding like he cared, but Gordon caught the tone in the middle that suggested Wayne was genuinely concerned. Why was it Wayne was always trying to cover up his emotions in his voice? Gordon was never fooled, being a cop for over fifteen years, he learned a few techniques on figuring out when someone wasn't telling the whole truth.

 

He didn't think Wayne was lying, but he was definitely trying to keep something to himself. Gordon didn't worry about that, whatever it was Wayne would tell him on his own time.

 

“We didn't catch the culprit, but we were able to deactivate the bomb,” Gordon explained, suddenly very aware of how alone he was in these cases without the help of Batman. Gordon knew that the vigilante was keeping a low key, but Gordon hadn't heard anything from him and was beginning to worry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, raising his glasses up a bit. He didn't need to be thinking about this right now.

 

“Something wrong, Jim?” Wayne asked just before a sip of his wine, eyes poised on Gordon in a very assessing manner.

 

Gordon smiled at Wayne warily, trying to hide his sudden change in mood. He couldn't tell Wayne the truth, as much as he found he trusted the billionaire, he had a feeling Wayne was not a Batman supporter. Then again, who was these days? Gordon looked passed Wayne out the window behind him and at the city lights that dotted the city below. Where was Batman? Was he even alive? Last Gordon had seen him, he'd been in pretty awful condition.

 

“Jim?” There was more concern in Wayne's tone this time, and Gordon found himself drifting back into the moment set before him, mentally shaking the thoughts from his mind. He needed to stop worrying about Batman – it just wasn't his place to worry.

 

“Sorry. It's difficult to shut down after work,” he gave Wayne an apologetic smile, bringing his gaze back to the younger man. “Always on.”

 

“Is it about Batman? I notice you tense up a lot when people talk about him,” Wayne gave Gordon a worried look, and continued. “You aren't still in alliance with him are you?” Gordon had told Wayne in one conversation how he used to trust Batman before the events in October. Not once did Gordon mention if he still had contact with the vigilante.

 

Gordon sighed. “Haven't seen or talked to him that day, Bruce.”

 

“But you _are_ thinking about him,” Wayne accused, in almost a possessive, jealous fashion. Gordon frowned.

 

“Hard not to. I do wonder sometimes what... went wrong.”

 

“You trusted him, that's what went wrong. Look what he did to your family, Jim!” Wayne's voice was starting to raise an octave, something of an argument starting over this and Gordon could tell he needed to end it before they went that route. Batman was not a topic of conversation he wanted to have with Wayne.

 

“Can we please just not talk about this,” Gordon pleaded, and Wayne stopped the words that were ready to come tumbling out of his mouth next. Gordon watched as the younger man started to contemplate something, and then his expression lightened.

 

“You need a vacation,” Wayne suggested, a little gleam in his eyes that Gordon had learned meant that billionaire had already made plans of some sort.

 

“I don't think Garcia is going to –” Gordon began to say, knowing full well that of the mayor was very strict, and it was less than two month after the Joker disaster – there was just too much left to be done.

 

“– I'm sure Anthony will allow you some time to go for a business meeting in New York.” Wayne suggested smoothly, placing his wine goblet down on the table. His fingers lingered around the stem of the glass, moving in a slow up-and-down motion. Gordon became memorized by the action, his mind wandering in places he didn't think it belonged, especially with Bruce Wayne being the center of it.

 

“Uh, business meeting?” Gordon asked as he snapped his eyes away from Wayne altogether, fidgeting with the buttons on his sleeves.

 

Wayne sighed, moving forward in his chair and clasping his hands together on the table. “Look, Jim. I have a very nice penthouse suite reserved at the Ritz in New York for next weekend. You sound like you could use a vacation more than I could. I'd be more than happy to have a companion. We'll call it a business trip and the Mayor will never know any different.”

 

Gordon felt his lips screw up into one of those awful, unsure, thinking faces; he could feel his teeth against his bottom lip and his eyes squinting, as if to see something that wasn't really there. He honestly had to think about this – a trip away from Gotham with the city's billionaire prince – it was a decision that could change their friendship; for better or worse. But he really could use just a few days away from Gotham. A few days to sort out his own life and not have to worry about Gotham. There was another concern though...

 

“Wouldn't you rather take a prettier, feminine companion than some middle aged workaholic?” Gordon asked. It was a concern he had a right to have answered; Wayne was known for pretty women and scandalous nights, so why would he give that up for Gordon?

 

The seriousness in Wayne's eyes sudden dropped like a sheet and was replaced with something much friendlier, and more sympathetic towards Gordon. “I can get that whenever I want, Jim,” Wayne said with a shrug of his shoulders. “I want to share this time with someone who has more to talk about than how much her dress cost and where she gets her hair done.” Wayne reached out a hand, finger barely even touching the tips of Gordon's. “I'd rather bring my closest friend.”

 

Gordon opened his mouth to reply, not really expecting Wayne to be so forward in how their friendship has just exploded over the last month. Gordon wasn't going to deny that he felt closer to Wayne than he had anyone else, and that their friendship rocketing so soon seemed to hint at more destined things. Maybe Wayne was the friend Gordon needed, after all they had grown very close so quickly and could almost read the other without so much as a word being spoken... most of the time.

 

\----

 

Bruce found himself feeling far more victorious than he should have been. Yes, he won the commissioner's approval to go on a weekend getaway with him, but what did that really mean? Bruce hoped that he was sending the right signals at the right pace; anything too soon or too strong would only sabotage what plans he had made for the trip. Gordon seemed to be getting along just fine, and Bruce could tell Gordon had learned to relax around him.

 

Bruce was not at all distraught by Gordon's lack of tact in shunning off the conversation about Batman. It only meant that even though Batman had not contacted Gordon or been seen in Gotham in over two months, that the commissioner still believed in him. Bruce would have to push a little harder and test a few more boundaries to see if the older man would crack. Bruce wasn't sure what the outcome would be, but with luck, it would work to his advantage.

 

Gordon had had a few glasses of scotch after dinner and was slowly nodding off to sleep in the middle of the off white sofa by the fire pit in the middle of the living room. Bruce had gone into the other room for a moment to take a phone call. He walked passed Gordon, sitting down the bricks surround the pit, facing Gordon. He placed both hands down on the either side of him, fingering the underside of the cool bricks,. He watched as Gordon slowly opened his eyes in a semi-drunk manor, trying to place where he was and probably why Bruce was staring at him.

 

“I can have Alfred make up the guest room if you like,” Bruce suggested, leaning forward just a little. Gordon sat up a little straighter, obviously testing his own balance. He then rubbed his eyes carelessly under his glasses and leaned forward on his elbows.

 

“What time is it now?” Gordon asked groggily, his eyes now focused a little more clearly on Bruce.

 

“Almost ten,” Bruce answered, bringing a hand up to his head to smooth back a few pieces of his hair that had fallen out of place through out the night. “I don't really mind if you stay. What's the point of a guest room if you don't have guests to use it?”

 

Gordon smiled, eyes starting to droop again. “That is a very good point,” he said with a few small nods. Bruce found it hard not to laugh; Gordon rarely drank and seeing him just slightly intoxicated was more than enough to make Bruce break out of his mold for a moment. Almost, anyway. He composed himself, standing in front of Gordon with a hand held out.

 

“I already asked Alfred to make the guest room up for you... just in case,” Bruce said as Gordon grasped hold of the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. Bruce held the other hand to Gordon's back to steady the commissioner, leading Gordon to the guest room. He didn't bother with the lights, just helped Gordon onto the bed, took off the man's shoes and tie, leaving Gordon in his work shirt and slacks. Gordon took off his own glasses and tossed them haphazardly to the nightstand.

 

Bruce turned to leave when Gordon grabbed his hand, pulling Bruce down to the side of the bed. “Did you mean what you said?”

 

“About what, Jim?” Bruce asked quietly, listening to Gordon's breathing go into a steady rhythm, ready to fall asleep. Bruce found himself almost losing himself again, wanting to reach out and touch moonlit laugh lines around Gordon's mouth. Bruce closed his eyes for briefly, and push the thoughts out.

 

“Being close friends...” Gordon whispered, almost inaudibly, but Bruce heard it and almost smiled. Exactly where Bruce wanted him.

 

“Every word.”

 

 

** Stage Five: Complete **


	3. Steps 6-7 And the Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of TDK. Bruce needs to know he can trust Jim Gordon as police commissioner and an alley to Batman. He makes plans that may not go the way he planned.

 “That was cruel. Even for you,” Alfred said to Bruce as he walked out of the guest room and started down the hall, the butler close behind. Bruce turned his head enough to shoot Alfred a glare of annoyance. “He's drunk and you're going to take anything he says or asks as absolute?”

 

“He's not that drunk. And he said yes to trip far before he started to drink.” Bruce explained as he stepped into his own room and began to peel off layers of clothing. He toed off his shoes, threw his tie on the ground, unbuttoned his shirt and wiggled out of his slacks before plopping face first down onto his bed of black one-hundred percent, six-hundred thread count, cotton sheets. Alfred was close behind him, picking up the clothes as he went.

 

“He's passed out in the guest room. If that isn't drunk I don't know what is!” Alfred proclaimed picking up the last of the clothing, standing at just the edge of Bruce's bed impatiently. Bruce rolled to his back and stared at Alfred uncomfortably, looking away again because he didn't want to see the disappointment in the older man's eyes.

 

“Alfred,” Bruce started to say, a softening in his voice, but when he had finally looked to the butler, Alfred was gone. Bruce wished that Alfred understood better, because Bruce was starting to see things in a haze and something inside him was making him very confused. _Stick to the plan_ , Bruce thought as he threw an arm over his eyes lazily. He could go out tonight, could check in on the bombing earlier this week, but he was so tired and he ached at every stitch Alfred had recently taken out from his clash with the Joker and Dent. Maybe if he slept for just a little while he could wake up feeling less confused and more revived.

 

\-----

 

** Step Six: Become  _ More _ **

 

 

Aside from waking up at Wayne's penthouse a little frazzled and little hungover, Gordon didn't mind. He wasn't so drunk that he couldn't remember what happened or what was said. In fact, he was pretty sure he saw past a defense Wayne often had up with everyone. It might have been brief – a split second at most – but Gordon saw it, and that's what mattered. There was so much to the younger man than met the eyes; so much that couldn't be taken in with one sitting. Gordon saw this as a challenge, that Wayne was someone he had to fight to get to know on a personal, trusting level; even when the billionaire was being open and honest, Gordon knew there was more.

 

Which was leading him to believe that he might have been developing a bit of a crush on Wayne. Maybe not a crush – crushes were for teenage kids – but he was definitely starting to feel something other than friendly emotions towards the playboy. Gordon wasn't sure if it was just him, or if Wayne perhaps had same feelings. Gordon was determined to find out that weekend, one way or another.

 

\-----

 

Bruce convinced Mayor Garcia that the trip was purely business related and that Jim Gordon was needed to attend the conference on new bio-technologies that might be useful for the GCPD. Bruce made up most of the information, he wasn't sure if anything like that actually existed. He'd worry about Garcia finding out later – if Garcia found out, and that wasn't too likely.

 

The limo was parked outside of Gordon's apartment building, waiting. Bruce was sitting in the back making last minute dinner reservations for a restaurant near the Ritz. The door to Bruce's left finally opened and Gordon slid into the seat next to Bruce, looking flustered. Bruce closed his phone, pocketing it, and smiled welcomely at the older man.

 

“Sorry, thought I had everything taken care of at MCU, but Garcia insisted that I go over regulations with Stephen's before I left. I don't know if leaving him in charge was a good idea...” Gordon began to ramble on, and Bruce placed his hand on the commissioner's shoulder to calm him.

 

“Jim, stop worrying. Leave work in Gotham,” Bruce said without trying to sound too stern, but also didn't want to sound as if he were joking. Gordon seemed to get the message, nodding and quickly switched his cell phone off. Bruce smiled at him encouragingly.

 

Gordon was quiet, as if he were either afraid to talk or had more on this mind than he cared to let on. Bruce prodded him a little. “I know I said no talking about work, but there has to be something new going on?” _Asking without asking; very tactful, Bruce_.

 

Gordon sighed and leaned his head back into the seat. “Barbara called this afternoon. Didn't think I'd hear from her again for a long time. It's only been a few months. I hear her voice and it feels like a floodgate's opened back up and I swear she's right next me.” Gordon adjusted his glasses, letting out an annoyed sigh. “She didn't even want anything – just to tell me the kids were fine.”

 

Bruce felt his blood begin to boil; this was not what he needed to deal with right now. Barbara Gordon needed to stay out of Gordon's life and stop toying with him. It just meant Bruce's plan might be a bit harder to achieve. Maybe. Right now, he needed to stay focused and try to get Gordon back on track. Bruce contemplated his move carefully. He slid his fingers across the rich leather seat until they just barely touched the other man hand. On instinct, Gordon's rough fingers wrapped around Bruce's long, slender ones.

 

“I know it's silly, a man my age getting sentimental about his ex-wife...” Gordon was struggling to talk, and Bruce knew it was probably more than the man's ex-wife he was thinking, but also his children. “It's hard to come home every night and have nothing.”

 

“You have more than you realize,” Bruce said softly, inching closer to Gordon. He started to feel the warmth growing in his chest again, the feeling that he might be happy... but that wasn't logical; Bruce was never happy anymore and all this was just another priority – another job.  _ Just keep lying, Bruce _ . 

 

Gordon swiveled his head just enough to where his eyes caught Bruce's – a dangerous sort of look behind the pale blue, mounting into something all together provocative. Bruce held his breath to keep the warmth in his chest from spreading, his head growing lighter with anticipation. He wasn't supposed to feel this way; he wasn't supposed to feel at all.

 

There was a hesitation on Bruce's part, where he felt he might be going to far. In the back of his mind the words of Alfred kept playing his mind about how someone was going to get hurt. He didn't need to be thinking about that now; he needed to get a grip of his feelings. Bruce felt his mind buzz and his heart pound in his chest. His eyes unfocused, looking past Gordon's glasses and deeper into the older man's soul, aware that Gordon was doing the same.

Bruce didn't feel himself move, the control of his own limbs were taken over by a needy haste. A split second reaction and his lips were pressed tightly against Gordon's. Bruce was sure the older man would attempt to push him away, but Gordon was dragging him in closer by the lapels of the his jacket, gnashing their teeth together in a heated frenzy.

 

A moan managed its way out of Bruce's mouth as he slid his hands down the curve of Gordon's spine – feeling every ridge – and around his waist. Gordon moved his hips with the motion of Bruce's hands as they wandered down to Gordon's buttocks. The older man man let out an exasperated groan. Bruce pushed Gordon into the seat, crawling on top of him. Bruce was vaguely unaware of how he was going to control himself; he'd already lost himself to the warmth laying below him, sandwiched between the seat and Bruce. The billionaire pulled away, hand on Gordon's tie, loosening the knot.

 

“This is crazy,” Gordon muttered under his quickened breath, eyes gazing up at Bruce in a haze of lust. Where Bruce thought for sure there would be questions and doubt from the commissioner, there was nothing but a willingly open soul, waiting for him to say what it was he wanted. Bruce could see Gordon trusted him completely.  _ This is what you wanted, isn't it, Bruce? _ It was, but he didn't want to feel any of it, he wanted to mask it all away, pretend as he usually did with every other companion he took bed. He'd only openly loved on other person, and she had only been dead for a few months. So how was it Bruce was so able to move on  _ now _ ? A month ago his heart still ached at the thought of Rachel, at the mention of her name. Maybe it was the same for Jim Gordon and his ex-wife. Maybe they both needed this – needed someone.

 

_ No _ , Bruce thought,  _ you won't get attached _ . He could control himself. He could. Feelings and attachment were not part of the plan. 

 

_ You could let go for just a while, Bruce. She would have wanted you to be happy _ . That nagging voice in the back of his mind – the conscience he wished he didn't have right then – was verifying his actions, telling him everything he was feeling was  _ right _ . There was no point in trying to fight it.

 

“Maybe a little,” Bruce said roughly after a few long seconds. He dipped his head to the commissioner's neck, licking the bitter taste of cologne and sweat. He could smell the intense testosterone fuming from the older man's sweat glands. Bruce pressed his forehead against Gordon's and tried contemplated his next move.

 

Gordon was looking him over pressingly, his mouth slightly open and Bruce found he wanted to kiss him again. Gordon let out a dithered sigh, Bruce's lips latching onto the commissioner's softly. Bruce moved his tongue slowly around the commissioner's mouth, bound to find each little piece of him. Bruce had to know each aspect, each underlying bit of information that made Gordon just so irresistible. And just exactly what it was that made Bruce lose himself.

 

Bruce pulled back, a rush of heat to his head made him gasp out, Gordon's sturdy holding him tighter to him. Bruce forced his eyes open. Gordon had taken his glasses off, his eyes bearing the willingness to continue. Bruce was tempted, but he knew that taking it this far might be more than pushing the consequences to come.

 

“What does this mean... for us?” Gordon asked, a shake in his voice. Bruce swallowed, his heart still racing in his chest; he hated that Gordon was making him lose control of everything. This was not like him. He tried to find control of voice, turning it into a tone that used so often when he was on the prowl to seduce.

 

“Whatever you want it to mean,” Bruce replied. A bell going off in the back of Bruce's mind told him he actually meant it and that he needed to stop, but there wasn't any stopping and Bruce assured the warning that everything was going to work to his advantage.

 

 

\-----

 

Gordon stared at the _single_ penthouse suite and then back to Wayne. The bellhop dropped their bags by the front door and Wayne slipped the man a fifty. Gordon stepped down into the den of the suite, noticing the built in hot tub in the middle of the room. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever dream of staying in a hotel this nice. Wayne closed the door behind them, walking up to Gordon's side. There was an odd tension in the air suddenly, and Gordon knew it had to do with the room. He turned his head to Wayne and looked at him pointedly.

 

“There's one bed,” Gordon stated. Wayne promptly plastered an innocent smile on his face.

 

“I booked a single before I asked you to come. I called an changed the reservations to a double, but it looks like they were... occupied.” Wayne explained as he walked into the living room portion of the suite, checking out all the amenities. Gordon followed behind him a tad reluctantly. Wayne started to peel his jacket off, throwing it onto the back of the sofa and then working the knot in his tie loose enough to pull over his head, and tossed it as well to the sofa. Gordon couldn't help but watch, especially after their hormone raged make-out fest in the back of the limo on the way to the hotel. He found he longed to take the stark white, button-up shirt off the billionaire and see what was beneath.

 

God, when did he become such a horny teenager again? _When Bruce Wayne started showing you the least bit of attention_. And who wouldn't want that? A man of Wayne stature, nature and class rarely showed anyone but those at his level the kind of the attention Gordon was receiving. But, it wasn't just about that, it was that Wayne was a different person than he let on and Gordon was slowly seeing all those parts coming together.

 

It didn't helped that Wayne was gut wrenchingly good-looking. Gordon watched as Wayne unbutton his the cuffs of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves and then preceded to undo the first three button on the shirt. He toed his shoes off next to the sofa, reaching for his belt when Gordon had had about enough. He took the ten steps between them, grabbed Wayne's face into his hands, and kissed him harder than he could ever remember kissing anyone before. Wayne let out surprised moan into Gordon's mouth, wrapping his arms tightly around the older man.

 

Gordon went for Wayne's waistband, removing the rest of the belt and untucking the shirt. His hands made good time in reaching for the rest of the buttons on the shirt, hastily pushing it down Wayne's arms, feeling the softness of his skin, and the odd knotted pieces of skin that felt like bad scarring. He pulled his lips from Wayne's, kissing down the playboy's fully exposed neck. His hands ran down Wayne's smooth torso, feeling each rigid, toned muscle as they twitched at his touch. Gordon let up, taking a seat on the sofa, hands on Wayne's hips. Wayne was watching him intently, his hazel eyes searching for what looked like an answer, but showing all the raw need built up in him.

 

The sight before Gordon was a beautifully toned, tanned young man, and the scarring Gordon thought he felt were actually there, some pink a probably just months old.. He didn't ask and didn't really want to know right then. Wayne was dropping every defense Gordon had ever known he had, letting the older man take control of the situation – letting him take what he wanted. Gordon unbutton Wayne's slacks and let them fall around the younger man's ankles. He took the rim of Wayne' boxers and pushed them to the floor as well, leaving the billionaire complete naked in front of him.

 

Wayne mumbled something that Gordon ignored, his eyes soaking in every last inch of bare skin. Gordon grabbed hold of Wayne's hard cock, giving it a few leisurely strokes. Wayne's eyes drifted closed, his head bowed slightly, teeth gritted. He reached out one hand to rest on Gordon's shoulder, to steady himself. Gordon wasn't sure he remembered how to do this, it having been quite some time since police academy. Maybe if he just started it would just come back naturally...He used his free hand to grab a hold of Bruce's buttocks, pulling him closer. Gordon wrapped his mouth around Wayne's cock, dipping his head down over the length.

 

“Jesus...” Wayne moaned, fingernails grasping holding of Gordon's shirt, while the billionaire's other hand found its way into Gordon's hair, pushing and pulling his head against Wayne's cock. Gordon swirled his tongue around the head of the playboy's penis, hand working the entire length with long, fluid strokes. Wayne started to buck his hips into Gordon's face, which turned Gordon on even more. He grasped Wayne's cock harder, tugging gently with each pull.

 

A strangled groan escaped Wayne's mouth, and Gordon's felt the younger man's whole body go rigid. Gordon held Wayne tighter to him as he came, allowing the billionaire to finish completely in his mouth, taking it down without much thought. Gordon pulled back, one hand still at the base of Wayne's cock, the other resting on his hip. Wayne was staring down at him, completely flushed. He had a few stray hairs resting across his forehead, mouth slightly agape, panting. Wayne reached for Gordon's tie, folding down into squatting position in front of Gordon.

 

“Mine,” he growled ravenously, pulling Gordon forward by his tie and into another kiss.

 

\-----

Bruce wasn't sure how it happened, even still. He had told himself that it shouldn't have happened at all. Gordon made the first move and when he was staring up at Bruce with those liquid blue eyes – full of want and need – Bruce lost all thought of what was right and what wrong. It wasn't wrong, though. It felt incredibly right.

 

What felt wrong was that Bruce knew it wasn't in his plan and it now threw everything off track. He'd have to remedy this as soon as they were back in Gotham. Bruce sat back in the hot tub, arms up on the ledge. Gordon was out on the balcony smoking a cigarette, wearing only a blue satin bathrobe. He was staring at Bruce with an intense glare; their eyes locked. Bruce had a feeling – a deep, down cold feeling – that he was actually falling for Jim Gordon. And there was nothing he could do about it.

 

The glass door opened and closed. Gordon walked in, taking his glasses off, placing them down on the table by the door, and walked to the tub, staring down at Bruce. Bruce sighed, laying his head back on the ledge. Gordon walked over to the couch and picked up his boxers and pulled them on. He then made his way to the bed and sat down on th edge. Bruce finally pulled himself out of the water, grabbing the towel he left on the floor and began to pat dry.

 

He wasn't completely unaware that Gordon was watching him. Bruce ran the towel through his hair and Gordon spoke. “I warn you, I'm a light sleeper.”

 

Bruce laughed, throwing the towel onto the floor by the bathroom. He walked over to the bed, pulling the sheets back and giving Gordon and mischievous grin. “And I warn you, I sleep naked.” He then slid in between the sheet.

 

\----

 

Gordon thought that maybe this was all happening for a reason. Two very lost souls meeting in the middle. Gordon had learned from a few conversations with Wayne that he and Rachel Dawes had been very close, and her death had hit him harder than he would admit to anyone outside of Alfred and Gordon. It made Gordon feel that he was closer to Wayne in just one more similarity.

 

The way back to Gotham was filled with a few mixed emotions for Gordon, as he had started to noticed t the faint scars along Bruce's torso and back, some looked like ravenous dog bites and others looked like knife and bullet wounds. Gordon had seen them all in his line of work, and he wondered just what sorts of extracurricular activities Bruce participated in. Some of the more haphazard looking scars looked at least a few months old, as they were still pretty pink around the edges. Gordon hadn't asked about them, maybe Wayne had stopped whatever it was he had been getting into. As long as no new injuries occurred, Gordon was sure Wayne had stopped. He filed away that bit of information tot he back of his mind, he was sure it would be more important later.

 

They arrived that evening at Wayne's penthouse. Wayne said he needed to change out of his suit after the limo ride, and Gordon took the few minutes to go out on to balcony to smoke a cigarette. He stood with his elbows on the railing and cigarette between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand. The sounds of traffic below in the city brought his mind back to work, back to criminals... back to Batman. He leaned his head into his left hand, taking a drag of the cigarette, and sighed heavily. Sometimes he wished he didn't let Batman take the fall for everything that happened; it wasn't fair. Maybe that was why he kept thinking about it. A man who gave up everything he stood for to take a blame for another man who fell completely down the wrong path. If only he could talk to Batman again, know everything was fine... that Batman hadn't fled the city or worse, was dead. He doubted the later, it just seemed so unlikely, and his mind kept telling him that he would have known if Batman had died. _Maybe that was because..._

 

“What's on your mind, Jim?” Wayne said from behind him. Gordon took one last drag on the cigarette and then flicked it over the side of the balcony. He turned around, leaning his elbows back against the rail. Wayne was wearing a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt and nothing on his feet. Gordon sighed, a smirk spreading across his lips. He didn't know how it happened, but he had managed to get himself into a relationship with Bruce Wayne. He liked it though, there was just something admirable about Wayne, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

 

“Lots. Mostly just getting my mind back into work,” Gordon said, watching as Bruce made his way over to him. Bruce stood in front of him, leaning over and putting his hands on the rail at either side of Gordon. They were just about nose to nose now, and Gordon could feel Wayne's breath softly tickle the hairs of his mustache. He breathed in instinctively, smelling unusual mix mint and the strawberry sparkling water Wayne had earlier.

 

“Already?” Wayne asked, whispering into Gordon's ear, his lips caressing the outside of the lobe softly. Gordon shivered, closing his eyes at the sensation. “I thought for sure I'd have you for a few more hours.”

 

Gordon felt his breath hitch in his throat and then the touch of Wayne's lips against his throat, licking the soft spot between his neck and jaw. “You do... you're very good at distracting... me.” Wayne snaked a hand up Gordon's spine, to his neck, to his hair, pulling gently.

 

“Do you trust me?” Wayne asked into Gordon's ear. That was a question Gordon had no trouble answering, because somewhere in the last month he'd found he _almost_ trusted Bruce more than anyone else.

 

“Yes,” Gordon replied in an exhaled breath, Wayne's other hand reaching around the front of Gordon's slacks to rub the growing bulge. Wayne mashed his lips into Gordon's, a desperately sweet sensation in his mouth as Wayne's tongue explored relentlessly.

 

Briefly, Bruce pulled back, gazing into Gordon's eyes. “I want you to know you can tell me anything.” And with that Bruce began to kiss him again.

 

 

** Stage Six: Complete **   


\-----

 

“I see you and Master Gordon are getting along well,” Alfred said plainly as he entered the hidden room in the penthouse. Bruce was sitting at his desk, looking over – for the first time in a long time – the police reports on the new criminals invading the city. Alfred glanced at the monitor and a slight smile appeared on his face.

 

“Yeah...” Bruce answered, not really listening to what Alfred had to say.

 

“I'm glad to see you getting back to 'work', Master Wayne.” Alfred was leaning over his shoulder now, and Bruce didn't object.

 

“Gordon's been worrying about some issues with a few new criminals. I thought I'd check them out and see what I could do.” Bruce stated, skimming through another article. “I'll have to go out patrolling tomorrow night.”

 

“You seem to be doing quite a bit for Master Gordon these days,” Alfred said with a hint of suspicion in his voice. Bruce looked up then at the older gentleman with a mean glare.

 

“He  _ is _ my friend, “Bruce growled in a annoyance. 

 

“I'd say he was more than that, with the way you two were going at it like rabbits this evening.” Alfred had his arms folded over his chest, glaring down at Bruce accusingly.

 

“What we do is none of your business.”

 

“No, I suppose not,” Alfred said as he turned to leave, but then looked back to Bruce for a moment. “I dare warn you though, sir, that you're playing a very deceptive game.” And then Alfred left.

 

Bruce glared after him, already quite away that his plans, the steps, the guide... everything was becoming harder and harder to follow. He never thought that he would actually start to have feelings for Jim Gordon – not real ones. He had to get his plans in motions and get what he needed from Gordon and end it quickly before it was too late, both of them.

 

\-----

 

** Step Seven: Convince him Otherwise **

 

 

Bruce walked into Major Crimes, hands in both pockets. He knew for a fact that this was one of the days that Gordon would be there, over looking the cases that needed his attention. Bruce ignored the the several pairs of eyes that followed him across the room until he reached Lieutenant Stephens' office. He rapped gently on the door and was thens met face-to-face with Stephens himself. He looked at Wayne was some precaution and confusion, but Bruce heard Gordon say something from behind him and Stephens stepped out of the way.

 

“Thanks,” Bruce said as he walked passed the Lieutenant and into the office. Gordon nodded at Stephens, who took the clue and left. “How's the day at the office so far?”

 

“It's... busy.” There was some hesitation in Gordon's voice and Bruce knew something was up. Of course there was, Bruce had gone out last night on patrol, first time in weeks and had run into Gordon. It was awkward at the time – for Gordon at least – and they made haste in letting each other know that they were both appreciated. Gordon had voiced his concern for Batman and Batman shrugged it off with being busy and trying to stay low until most of the shock from October had calmed. Except now Batman was needed again, more maniacs were swarming the streets every day.

 

“Do you have time for lunch? You look like you could use a break.”

 

\-----

 

Gordon sat across from Wayne at a small corner bistro just down the street from MCU. Wayne sipping on water and making some small talk with the waitress. Gordon wanted so much to tell Wayne he'd seen Batman, because if he didn't he might explode. But whenever he brought up Batman to Wayne, there seemed to be a tension that radiated off the younger man. _There was a reason for that_ , Gordon thought, and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with whether Wayne was a Batman supporter or not.

 

Finally the waitress left and Gordon let out a big sigh. Bruce raised his eyebrows at him.

 

“Bruce, there something I want to tell you,” Gordon began, taking a sip of his water to quench the tightening he was experiencing. He then leaned in towards Wayne so that no one near them could hear. “I know you've heard those press rumors about Batman and me. How I still converse with him and have him police the city, even after what he's... uh, done.”

 

Wayne nodded, not even the slightest bit of emotion showing on his face. After all, Gordon had told him this before, he could expect a new emotion. Gordon took a deep breath. “They might not be totally wrong.”

 

“What are you saying? Have you recently talked to Batman?” Wayne asked with an almost accusing glare, and Gordon suddenly felt he'd made the wrong choice in telling the billionaire. Too late now.

 

“Well, not in the last few months,” Gordon grumbled, looking down at his water glass, not wanting to meet Wayne's gaze, afraid he might see the truth. “I talked to him last night.” There was a moments pause before Wayne said anything in return, probably trying to gather his thoughts.

 

“You trust him? After he killed Dent and all those cops?” Wayne asked, his tone was growing a little irritable. Gordon only nodded, brining his eyes back to Wayne for a moment, waiting for silent answer to his questions. “Jim, a man like that is no better than the Joker. One slip up and he kills five people. Next it'll be ten, twenty, maybe even fifty.”

 

“I know,” Gordon whispered, even though he didn't believe it. He wasn't sure why Wayne was was doing this, why any of this mattered, because it was all so obvious... Wayne had a very disappointed look on his face and was rubbing his chin with his left hand. “Bruce...” Gordon wanted to let Wayne know that everything would be fine, that Gordon trusted _all_ of him. But there was something in Bruce's mannerism that stopped him. Maybe now wasn't the time to bring _that_ up. Wayne obviously had some sort of plan, something on his mind that wouldn't be settled so quickly. “Never mind.”

 

“Promise me that if you talk to him again, you _will_ arrest him,” Wayne said sternly, a fierce and controlling look in his eyes. Gordon felt torn. He had Wayne on this side of his life, making up for everything he lost with Barbara and his social life; and then he had Batman on the other side who had told Gordon just last night how much his partnership meant to him and how in the end the city would better with both of them keeping on the job. And yet, the question still remained: _Why?_ Nothing in what Wayne was doing made sense.

 

Maybe he could lie. Maybe he could have both and let Wayne continue with whatever it was he was trying to prove. God knew Gordon couldn't give up either one now. Gordon gave Wayne a nod of understanding. “Of course.”

 

At this point, Gordon's didn't care what it was Wayne was trying to do. All Gordon wanted was something to make sense.

 

 

\-----

 

Bruce wasn't stupid. He knew when Gordon lied, it was obviously written across his face and it was why he made such a _good_ cop. It was the reaction that Bruce expected and wanted from the older man. He needed to know that Gordon trusted Batman enough to not be swayed by even the closest person to him. Bruce honestly thought Gordon would crack, break down and do what Bruce asked of him. Some how Gordon's nobility attracted Bruce to him more.

 

_ No, no, no, Bruce, this is not how we're doing this _ . Bruce had to stick to the plan. Bruce knew for Gordon to pass the little tests he'd set up for him, that Bruce himself would have to fail his own plan. “Step Seven” needed to go down in flames. 

 

The batsuit stood in the cage in front of him, and Bruce pulled the mesh body suit on and began to pull each Kevlar armored piece into place. He had to go out and see just how much he could really trust Jim Gordon.

 

\-----

 

Batman stood on the ledge of the building watching Gordon and his team assess the situation on the street below. There was another bomb threat from a man calling himself the Black Mask. The building wasn't anything exciting, or even dangerous to civilians, but it would shut down a business or two for a couple of days if it happened to follow through and blow. Batman watched Gordon make a few gestures to his men and then the commissioner was alone, watching after the SWAT team. Batman had his chance.

 

Leaping off the side of the building, Batman outstretched the wings of the cape and landed silently behind Gordon. “Are there any hostages?” Batman rasped as he came up right behind Gordon.

 

Gordon jumped a few inches, slowly turning to meet Batman's dark gaze. “A few. We have this under control though. You should get out of here before they catch you here.” Batman almost smiled; Gordon hadn't even given it another thought.

 

“Are you sure?” Batman asked, trying to see if Gordon would change his mind or be swayed in the other direction. “You don't need me for  _ anything _ ?”

 

“What I need is you alive and out of jail,” Gordon said as he gave Batman an assessing glare. The door to the warehouse opened, and Batman saw one of the SWAT members emerging. Gordon placed a hand on the chest of Batman's armor and pushed him towards the shadows. Batman took that as the absolute answer he needed, and disappeared.

 

** Step Seven: Failed **

 

\-----

 

Bruce should have been happy. Well, he was happy about Gordon's decision to trust Batman. It also showed Bruce that Gordon was the one person at the GCPD that was trustworthy. Sure, he lied to Bruce, but that wasn't what mattered. Gordon's faith in Batman and undying devotion to bring Gotham under control were what mattered. Gordon sacrificed a lot for what he believed and sought after. The plan was complete, and all Bruce had to do was end the romance he started. So, why was he being so hesitant?

 

When he thought about Jim Gordon, he found it hard to breath; and when he thought about what he had to do, he found it difficult to swallow as his throat threatened to tighten in anticipation. The question as to whether he could keep Gordon around in his life without the man ever finding out about Batman swirled around his thoughts for a good ten minutes before he decided. He couldn't stray from the course; he couldn't let his emotions get in the way of what was right. Not again. He tried this with Rachel, tried to give up on Batman and try for something he thought would be better. And in the end his feeling for Rachel prohibited him from doing the right thing.

 

Alfred entered the room with a cup of tea in hand, placing it down on the desk, looking at the “steps” list on Bruce's monitor. “Failed?”

 

“That was the point. If I completed step seven then _Gordon_ wouldn't have failed,” Bruce casually pointed out, taking the tea cup into both hands.

 

“Can I assume Master Gordon passed your little test then?” Alfred asked dully, not wanting to make an issue of Bruce's project yet again.

 

“Yes,” Bruce said flatly. He sighed heavily and took a sip of the green tea, turning his chair to face Alfred. “I think I understand now, though, what you were talking about, Alfred. About someone getting hurt.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Bruce nodded. “I think I let myself feel too much. I opened myself up to him without even realizing I had already done it. I... I think I've gotten attached to him. I can't seem to convince myself to end this now. It was such a mistake, Alfred.” Bruce knew he was admitting to being wrong, something he rarely did these days, but Alfred was thrilled to see that Bruce was actually happy for once. If happiness was what Bruce got out of this more than knowing he could trust Jim Gordon. Alfred had a feeling Bruce trusted the commissioner all along, but something had pushed him to be sure. Fate, perhaps.

 

“Sometimes we do things we regret, Master Wayne. But there is always an upside to the down. Perhaps not all is lost. Maybe Master Gordon will be understanding when you tell him the truth.” Alfred said, patting Bruce on the shoulder.

 

“What's that suppose to mean?” Bruce asked. Alfred merely winked at him.

 

\------

 

Bruce stood in front of Gordon, against the older man's apartment door. Gordon had actually called Bruce over, and it didn't sound like it would be a good conversation from the tone of voice Gordon had used over the phone. Gordon was just staring at Bruce now, a gaze that worked him over from head to toe, and back again. Bruce didn't know what he should be doing or feeling, but he knew he'd been naked and felt more secure than he did right then.

 

“It really should have been a bit more obvious to me,” Gordon said as he took a step forward, hands in his pockets. He looked at Bruce over the rim of his glasses, squinting at him.

 

“I'm not sure I'm following you, Jim.” Bruce had no where to go, stuck between a closed door and Gordon, he knew something he wasn't suspecting was about to happen. Bruce hadn't felt scared in a long time, since he was a boy... but suddenly a cold shiver was working its way down his spine.

 

“All the empty flirting with women. The booze you don't really drink. Conveniently 'catching the light'. Graciously offering new equipment officers, technology for our cars I've only seen _one_ other place,” Gordon paused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He looked at Bruce for some recognition, but Bruce was holding his breath waiting for the other man to finish. “I didn't see it clearly until last night. I'm not sure what it was that clicked, but something about the way you looked at me, the intensity, the glare... something in your eyes.” Gordon was just inches away from Bruce.

 

Bruce didn't know what to say, if he could say anything. He'd never expected Gordon would have figured it out on his own. “Jim, I... I don't know...” Bruce hadn't thought this far ahead, didn't have a plan for this. Had he really been _that_ see-through? Did he let his guard down too long? When did this happen? _How_ did this happen?

 

Gordon looked passive, but behind the calm blue eyes, Bruce could see something else brewing. “I never expected you to openly tell me. I honestly didn't want to know. I could have lived without knowing,” Gordon placed a hand on either side of the door by Bruce's head. Their faces were so close Bruce could feel the breath of the other man on his face. Gordon lowered his tone. “I could have lived without becoming Bruce Wayne's friend. I could have lived without being his lover. I would have been none the wiser to Batman's identity.”

 

“Jim...” Bruce whispered but Gordon shook his head, and Bruce kept to himself. He was feeling mixed signals; was Gordon angry or calm? The way the commissioner was looming over him, Bruce couldn't be sure which way the situation would go.

 

“Don't. You're reasons for all of this – the convenient meetings at the beginning, the pretending to care – it all doesn't matter. What matters is that you be honest with me _now_.” Gordon returned Bruce's whisper, his lips almost touching Bruce's, and it was as if they were suspended for a moment in time and Bruce didn't want to break it. How had he gotten in this position?

 

“I had to know that you weren't going to turn into one of the corrupt cops. I had to be sure that no matter what you would not be swayed from your loyalties to Batman. I never intended for it to go this far. I didn't mean to get so caught up in you... or have you believe that this was all _real_.” Bruce explained, but the words weren't quite what he wanted them to be, they sounded faded and arrogant, and only caused Gordon to grit his teeth a little.

 

“Is it real or am I living a dream that will end the minute I let you go?” Gordon asked, he had dread in his eyes as if Bruce's words would be the fate of everything. Honestly, Bruce knew they would be. He had the chance to end it now and move on and pretend none of it happened. That wouldn't work though, everything would change in his partnership with Gordon. Was it worth it?

 

Bruce breathed in, pulling Gordon's lips against his, however briefly. “Real,” he whispered into Gordon's mouth, finally giving into his own feelings. He hadn't been able to smile genuinely since Rachel was killed, but somehow Gordon was able to help him forget all that. Maybe this could be a new start. Maybe this could work for both of them.

 

Maybe this was Bruce's plan after all.  


End file.
